


This is Good. I Can Have This.

by Cimorene105



Series: Thank God for PR [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Boys Kissing, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky goes to therapy, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Needs a Hug, Therapy, so much feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 06:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12647559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cimorene105/pseuds/Cimorene105
Summary: Bucky goes to therapy and starts getting comfortable with receiving intimacy. Then Bucky learns something new about Steve.But first, Natalia Alianova Romanova gets petty revenge on her ex. Bucky considers the minor inconvenience as her letting him off easy.





	This is Good. I Can Have This.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Bucky talks in therapy about dissociation from his memories (in particular, memories of participating in prostitution) and mentions memories of war and torture.

"JARVIS, is there some reason Bucky and I are not allowed to leave the gym?" Steve stood in front of the doors crossly with his hands on his hips.

_"Yes, Captain Rogers. I believe the cause to be a practical joke enacted by Miss Romanoff."_

"Oh my god, Talia, that was eight years ago!"

"What did you do this time, Buck? You were always getting in trouble with the ladies. I see that hasn't changed."

"For the love of - JARVIS, can you let us out?"

_"Unfortunately, I cannot, Sergeant Barnes."_

"Who the fuck can?"

_"I regret only a level seven agent can let you out."_

"Your SHIELD protocols are outdated, JARVIS!"

_"Yes, sir. I'm afraid so, sir. Mr. Stark assures me he means to change them soon."_

"That doesn't help us any now, JARVIS. Who the fuck is still around that has level seven clearance?"

_"Allow me to make some calls, gentlemen. Perhaps I can reach someone."_

Bucky glared at Steve. "If it turns out JARVIS can't free us, we'll figure out another way. Knowing Talia, I'm sure she has rigged an elaborate system by now to make us feel like rats in a lab trying to escape."

Steve glared right back. "I'd like to blame you for this, but I'll refrain judgement since I don't know the whole story."

"That's awfully nice of you. And not very in-character."

"Tell me what you did that she would lock us in a room with very few ways out - while we try to find them." Steve turned away to assess the other exit possibilities. The restrooms, he knew, were dead ends. The vents, on the other hand, might pan out.

"You probably already heard that she's an ex."

"Buck, when it comes to you, who isn't?"

"Shut up, Steve."

"So, bad break-up?"

"Talia dated the Winter Soldier. She was an asset to the asset. It's safe to assume shit went down when she found out I had no feelings at the time."

"Ouch. Poor Nat."

"Don't let her hear you say that, or we'll be in here even longer so she can spite you, too."

Steve boosted Bucky up to the ventilation shaft. With a flick of his wrist, Bucky produced a pocket knife from seemingly nowhere. He proceeded to unscrew the vent cover with it.

The cover clanged to the floor at Steve's feet. With effortless ease, Bucky disappeared into the void.

"You're turning me on with those skills, Buck."

"Save it for later, Rogers."

After a minute, voices floated from the vent.

"Sorry, man, Nat put me up to it."

"I will fight you, Barton."

A scuffling echoed back towards Steve. A resounding boom followed.

Moments later, a soot-blackened Bucky re-emerged.

Steve tried his damnedest not to crack up. "You lost?"

"He's got exploding arrows; excuse me if I don't put up much of a fight. I left all my own exploding arrows back in Yugoslavia."

JARVIS saved Steve from his increasingly slim hold on laughter.

_"Gentlemen, I've located someone to let you out of your predicament. He should arrive within the next five minutes. I did ask Mr. Stark if he could release you. He regrets he cannot."_

"Thank you, JARVIS."

_"You're welcome, Captain."_

"JARVIS, is there any way to make sure this agent isn't HYDRA?"

_"He has already been vetted to the highest clearance by Director Fury, Sergeant."_

"Good thinking, Buck."

The door opened five minutes later to reveal someone Bucky had no recollection of meeting before. He supposed that was good when it came to SHIELD agents.

"Captain." The man nodded to Steve. Apparently, they'd met. "Sergeant Barnes. I'm a huge fan."

"You're a fan of the century's greatest killing machine?" Bucky was instantly skeptical.

"No, I'm a fan of the 107th's greatest sniper, the guy who always made sure Captain America didn't rush into things without a solid plan, even before he was Captain America. It's an honor to meet you."

Steve, once again, had his cross expression back in place, complete with hands on hips. "You still got your trading cards, Coulson? And - more to the point - does anyone else know you're alive?"

Coulson sighed. "Yes, Steve. I had a meeting with everyone else. I hate knowing you're disappointed in me. By the look on your face, I know you're thinking about the last time we had a mission. I want you to know, I hate that I was part of the system that created the Winter Soldier. I'll never forgive myself for that." Coulson gave the two what eye contact he could manage under the weight of his guilt.

Steve nodded and walked off.

Coulson made to follow, but Bucky caught him by an arm.

"Hey - Coulson, was it?" Coulson nodded. "You've got top clearance and you're not HYDRA. That's good enough for me. I forgive easy. Steve? Not so much. People forget, he's not a shield and a theme song. He's human. He'd never let me hear the end of it if he found out, but that's what I love most about him." Bucky gave Coulson a parting pat on the shoulder and followed Steve out the door.

Bucky was unaware of the intense fangirling his little pep-talk had caused.

Dinner in Stark tower was different from day to day. Sometimes they would all gather for something resembling a family meal. Sometimes everyone ate separately. Sometimes people got wrapped up in projects and forgot to eat. Tonight was movie night, another one of Pepper's ideas.

The movie was always picked by JARVIS because for some reason, he knew how best to compromise on what people wanted to see.

Coulson joined them. They ordered different kinds of take-out and somewhere in there, Bucky was coerced into signing trading cards; the comic ones, where he was wearing the most absurd costume.

Steve and Bucky called it quits after the first movie, begging off on the pretext that it was their old-people bedtime.

Steve settled a hand on the back of Bucky's neck once they'd returned to their apartment. After a lingering kiss, he said, "Your turn, like I promised, Buck. How do you want it?"

"I, uh, I don't know." Bucky was trying to get better at this making decisions thing. It was difficult, especially when all the choices were equally appealing.

"Is there anything I shouldn't do?" Steve asked quietly.

"Maybe... let's save holding me down for another time? I'm not sure about that one."

"Absolutely. I'd only do something if you want it; if it made you happy." Steve was still unbearably quiet and intense.

"Yeah, alright," Bucky deflected. He was getting uncomfortable with Steve asking about his triggers. Bucky knew he'd probably have to bring it up in therapy so it wouldn't turn into a big deal. Awkward.

Thinking things like, _"big deal,"_ and _"What if I flip out,"_ wasn't getting Bucky where he wanted to be in his head. That was the opposite of what he wanted right now.

"I just - I don't fucking know, Steve. Shit. Sorry." He clutched at his hair, feeling a full-blown panic attack creep up on him.

"Hey, hey - Bucky, it's okay." Steve gently grasped the hyperventilating man's shoulders. "Look, what if you ride me? I can still fuck you, you can do as much or as little of the work as you want." This wasn't getting Steve anywhere. Bucky was too deep in his head.

"Breathe with me, Buck. In. Out." With effort, Bucky slowed his breath. The irony of their roles in the breathing exercise was not lost on him.

When Steve was satisfied Bucky was at least breathing slower, he continued. "You could ride me. That way, you get to move around more. I'm cool with it. How does that sound? Better, maybe? We don't even have to do anything today, or this week. You don't even have to bottom at all if you don't want to. We're in this together, is all that matters."

Bucky took one last measured breath and considered what Steve was saying. "Ride you."

"Yeah. What are your thoughts on that?"

Something was still off to Bucky. Nothing was sounding good right now. _Damn PTSD,_ he lamented. A lifetime ago, Bucky knew he would have been ecstatic to do everything possible with Steve when sex was involved.

"What if I hurt you?" Bucky knew it was absurd. He had already nailed Steve to the wall. If anything, he knew he should worry about Steve hurting him. Little shit was still surprised at his serum strength sometimes.

Bucky knew this, but he couldn't not worry he'd lose control. He struggled to trust himself.

Steve also knew all this. Since the first time had caught them off guard and blew up into way more than either could handle, they'd gone through a better process for Bucky's self-doubt. When he was in this frame of mind for any reason, Steve was careful not to insist Bucky would never hurt him, or tell him he was being irrational.

Steve knew deep down that it wasn't irrational. There was always a risk when Bucky got lost in his head.

"You know what will happen if you do something you don't mean to. Remind me what I do when that happens, Buck." They'd found it helped to remind Bucky he wasn't the only person who could take action.

"You'll talk me down like you're doing now. And if I'm too deep, you'll call for backup. You won't let me get the upper hand. We fight hard and we're equally matched."

"Exactly. I promise I won't let you kill me, Buck." That had been their first fight since the end of their running. As soon as Bucky had registered he was allowed to have feelings, he vented all of them on Steve for giving up on fighting when he thought Bucky was never going to recognize him.

Steve's comeback of, _"Well, it worked, didn't it,"_ was not met kindly.

Bucky dragged himself back to the present. "Good."

Steve waited while Bucky processed everything.

"I don't think I can right now, but... Maybe later?" Bucky looked like he was beating himself up for turning down the opportunity. Steve wasn't about to let him.

"Absolutely. You're allowed to feel what you feel, Buck. You're not ready; that's fine. All I want - sappy as it is - is to spend time with you. Let's watch another movie. There's a lot of Disney to catch up on, still."

Bucky perked up at this. "Can we watch Finding Nemo, next? I heard it was really good."

The two spent the evening watching movies and sending their reactions to the mostly ex-Avengers' group chat. This somewhat spoiled their excuse of going to bed, but neither particularly cared. Steve couldn't stop smiling when Bucky fell asleep on his shoulder, just like he used to when they would stay up late listening to the radio in Brooklyn.

Bucky was grateful to wake up in his own bed with Steve wrapped octopus-like around him.

 _The only way this could feel better is if he was inside me,_ Bucky mused. _Why the hell did that freak me out yesterday?_

Bucky supposed he would have the opportunity to find out soon, as he had a therapy session with one of the vetted shrinks he was seeing, thanks to Pepper. When he had timidly approached Pepper Potts for the first time, Bucky hadn't been sure what to expect.

It wasn't the candid, sarcastic, and caring greeting she gave him all in one sentence. He knew instantly that they would get along.

This was why Pepper became the first person Bucky told that he wanted all the help he could get, from whoever would give it to him. She provided him with an array of services for trauma and PTSD.

"Why do I need more than one shrink? Not that I'm complaining," he'd responded.

"Complain all you like, James." That was another thing he liked about Pepper. She called him James like it was an important part of his name.

"But if you're actually curious," she waited for him to nod, "it's because different psychologists and psychiatrists are certified for different approaches to mental health."

Pepper clicked through different websites to show Bucky each option as she described them. "One will go straight for the physical and chemical side of things while another will let you talk to yourself the whole time with little input. Still others will ask you to make connections you may not think of on your own, or draw specifically on their college studies to give you insight on, scientifically, why humans do or think certain things."

Bucky was blown away by the variety. It was a little overwhelming.

"It doesn't have to be overwhelming." Bucky had noticed Pepper possessed a habit of mind-reading. "You can start with just one, one day a week. You can see different ones, still once a week. If you ever want to build up more sessions, all you have to do is ask each in person or call them to schedule more time. Don't worry about the cost. It's taken care of."

She stopped Bucky before he could open his mouth to protest. "You can ask me why some other time, but we have very good reasons. I'll send you these websites and you can decide what you want in your own time. Talk to Steve or Sam about it. Don't ask Nat. She's as bad as Tony. Won't even admit therapy is a legitimate practice."

Bucky did just that. He took his time perusing his options and asked Sam what he thought.

"Damn, if I could afford any of these people, I'd try it in a heartbeat," Sam had exclaimed when he scrolled through the sites.

That was enough for Bucky. He started out small, just sitting in on Sam's VA program. Then he scheduled an appointment with an eclectic emphasis psychologist. Now he was up to two sessions a week with different people, as well as the VA and regular exercise.

Bucky reluctantly left Steve with a kiss to his dark blond hair and commuted to his therapy session.

In the session, Bucky brought up his panic attack from the day before and the specialist helped him to go through the reasons it happened.

"Have you been intimate with men before, James?" Bucky was distracted by the way it was different to hear different people call him James.

He refocused on the initial question. "Not really. I, uh... I guess I maybe used to do a little prostitution a long time ago? But I don't really remember it. That's one of those dissociative things that I feel happened to someone else, like a lot of that stuff from back then. Then, I know in the war, being intimate was a way to stay sane surrounded by hell. Steve is my first boyfriend." He ran a hand through his hair.

"And have you ever experimented by yourself?"

"I - I guess not. Seventy years and I've never had anything in my ass. That's a mind-fuck and a half. You'd think I would have found time to try it by now."

"Not necessarily. You were a prisoner of war for most of that time. Perhaps that is yet another very valid reason for you to panic? We've talked extensively about the torture you went through. Your mind and body are unused to people showing you intimacy and kindness, James. That's not something to dismiss. Let's talk about how to remind yourself that receiving is good, just like accepting Steve's protection or using your breath to become centered."

Bucky used said breath technique now, and was praised for his effort.

"Good, James. I want you to think not about why you love Steve, but why you like him. What is it about Steve that makes you smile?"

"He's patient with me, when he understands what I'm thinking."

"What else?"

"He doesn't pressure me."

"That is excellent. Let's focus specifically on that. Why do you think Steve doesn't pressure you?"

The two solidified the way Bucky could remind himself to slowly start accepting that he can have meaningful intimacy. It wouldn't work immediately, and it wouldn't fix everything, but it was good. And Bucky would take all the good he could get. Sometimes it felt like he was reprogramming himself the way he wanted to be.

Bucky headed back to the apartment in a great mood. He heard the shower and smiled, imagining a wet, naked Steve.

Bucky crept to the door. Sometimes he had to be loud on purpose to remind himself he wasn't an assassin anymore, but it was as ingrained as breathing to walk silently. He was glad he had when he heard a muffled sob. Bucky realized he wouldn't have known anything was wrong if Steve thought he was there.

Bucky opened the door, making his presence known.

Steve startled, but tried to play it off. "B-Bucky. Hey. How was t-therapy?"

"I think I had a much better morning than you, sweetheart. Tell me what's wrong." Bucky stripped and plastered himself to Steve's back.

"N-nothing."

"Uh-huh. My ass. I'm just gonna keep pestering you about it all day until you're so fed up that you snap. It might as well be now so I have time to cheer you up after." Bucky kissed the back of his neck.

Steve gave a sigh that tore at Bucky's heart. "You weren't there. It's stupid, I know, but you weren't there and for a moment it was like you were still dead, or missing as the Winter Soldier. And I- I couldn't. I-"

Bucky kissed his neck again and just held Steve as he sobbed.

"I wasn't there when you woke up, Stevie?"

Steve nodded.

"Okay. We can fix that so it doesn't happen again. I'll wake you up before I have to leave. And I'll always come back. Do you know why you're feeling like this, Stevie?"

Steve shook his head.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Steve. You have PTSD. And you've been hiding it from me, haven't you?"

"D-don't want you to h-have to deal with my shit."

"And I don't want you to have to deal with my shit, either. You know I go to therapy and the VA. You should come with me and see what it's like. You don't have to say anything. Just come with and see. Can you do that for me, Steve?"

Steve nodded.

"I'm going again to a session in two days. You can go with and see what it's like for me. I'm a lot more open with the professionals now than I was at the beginning. It's been so helpful."

The water wouldn't get cold any time soon, and the Super-Soldiers wouldn't get pruny for about the same amount of time, but Bucky turned off the water and toweled Steve down before doing the same for himself.

The two had themselves a lazy day to combat Steve's melancholy. Bucky told Steve to be as clingy as he wanted. He had every right to be.

Steve took Bucky at his word. Apart from bathroom breaks, Steve kept in contact no matter what they were doing. When Bucky cooked them brunch, Steve blanketed the brunet with his slightly larger frame. When Bucky laid down on the couch and turned on a jazz station, Steve immediately laid on top of him, face hidden in Bucky's neck.

"Steve, am I remembering this right? This is a song we used to like, isn't it?"

Bucky felt Steve's smile, then heard it in his voice. "Yeah, Buck. Still like it?"

"Yeah. Any reason in particular it makes me feel like kissing you? Like, really strongly?"

"No clue, Buck. You can kiss me as much as you want." Steve leaned up for his kiss.

Right away, Bucky swept his tongue through the other man's mouth. He tightened his arms around Steve's back and hummed in contentment when it made Steve gasp.

Bucky let his head fall back to the sofa, but Steve followed with his lips. Steve was on top of him, kissing him and undulating his hips ever so slightly. It was intimate, Bucky realized.

"This is good," Bucky whispered between them. "I can have this. It's good."

"I'll give you anything you want, Buck. You know that," Steve replied to the rhetoric.

"Yeah," Bucky affirmed. "This right here, this is what I've always wanted out of life. This song -"

Steve drew back to meet his eyes.

"- we were drunk. We played cards. A stiff wind could make you flush, so you were bright red. I wanted to kiss you everywhere your skin had color. That happened to me."

Bucky could see Steve trying not to let the tears out.

"I almost can't believe how much I love you," Bucky finished.

"Fuck," Steve breathed. He collapsed back into Bucky. His shoulders shook silently and Bucky rubbed both hands up and down his back. Bucky reveled in finding a memory that seemed all his, like it really did happen to him.

They must have drifted off at some point. Bucky came back to himself when he felt Steve kissing his neck. He let a hand drift up onto Steve's head. The room was darkened in the twilight of the day.

"What say we have dinner, Stevie?"

"Is it evening already?"

"Yep. We had a nice long nap."

"Okay."

Dinner passed in the same intimate manner as their day. Bucky's room was closest to the bathroom, so after they had finished their nightly routines, they crashed in his bed again.

"Why are we still so tired? All we did was lie around all day," Steve mused.

"That's a side-effect of stresses we have, associated with PTSD. You're tired because of your panic attack and then the different unstable moods you experienced after. I'm tired because of my memory breakthrough and the emotions with that." Bucky kissed the back of Steve's hand.

"There's no one I'd rather go through this shit with, Buck."

"Same here, Stevie. Good night."

**Author's Note:**

> [My YouTube Channel](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCnTcO921RLNZVxTYOWVq5Lg)  
>  Lookie what I did!


End file.
